During the Course of Ruling Hell - Go Along Porn Activity Book
by VoteKingCrowley
Summary: Full version During the Course of Ruling Hell's Romantic Interludes. CONTAINS DCRH SPOILERS! Can be read w/o reading DCRH. WARNINGS: NSFW Smut
1. From DCRH 18

**From "During the Course of Ruling Hell" **

**FYI: If you HAVNE'T read During the Course of Ruling Hell, you should probably be able to get by if you ignore the little allusions to the plot. If you want to HERE IT IS:**

** s/10474567/1/During-the-Course-of-Ruling-Hell**

**Chapter 18: Author's Cut**

He put up his hand. "You want to…build and command Hell with me?"

"Well…yeah."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at me, a smirk rising across his face, he stepped closer to me and put his hands on my upper arms, "I tell you that there is no place for the ghosts to go and you respond by asking me if I am interested in stealing souls from the ignorance of heaven, making an army, and creating Hell in my image." He was breathing rather hard and his eyes were boring straight into mine.

I caught his fire, leaning forward, a toothy, ravenous smile carving across my face, "Yeah, Crow, I do."

He was towering over me a bit now, hands trailing up and down my arms like he couldn't quite believe what was right in front of him, "You know, Kitten, when we first met I thought you would be nice to keep around, after all, you could kill Hellions. But I sort of assumed you had survived because of a fluke. Why would I give up the last woman on earth, but, _darling_," he said 'darling' with a rapturous sort of groan, "You survived because you're _magnificent._" When he said magnificent he was all predatory teeth, looming above me.

I bared my teeth at him, gripping his hips, firm and commanding where his touch was teasing and delicate, and I hissed in a low breath, "Don't you forget it."

That shirtless boy had given me shivers but Crowley sent my blood pounding and powerful through my veins. Made my stomach stiffen. Made me light headed. We remained poised there, teeth bared at each other for a prolonged moment. He blinked and took a half step away from me, looking uncertain.

I growled and seized him by the front of his shirt, pulling him toward me. Entirely unproficient in what I was doing, but drunk on how it felt, I pushed my lips against his. He responded immediately. He gripped me, a hand fiercely in my hair, the other possessively on my hip. He pushed me roughly against the river bank's lone tree. There was a drumming coursing through my body that I was unfamiliar with, but hell if I wasn't excited to become familiar with it.

I was unsure of what I was supposed to be doing, so I gave up to instinct and raked my nails down his sides, under is shirt. He let out an inhuman snarl that sent fire lashing throughout my body.

He was kissing me like an attack. His tongue lashing through my mouth, it burned like fire. His short cut beard tore at my skin. His hands had left my hip and hair and were busy trying to get me out of my shirt. In a rush, still not entirely able to put the pulsing urges into words, it became too oppressive to have my hands awkwardly under his shirt. Following his lead, but without his precision, I snagged and tore at his shirt, desperate for the flesh beneath it.

There was violence in it, in all of it. A release. For Crowley, I thought, the release of jubilation and excitement I had brought on. I lashed out my anger at Ethan's death, at the everyone's death, at dad's death. All of the terrible wrath that had built itself inside of me thrashed itself out as I clawed and bit at Crowley. Who not only took it all, but enjoyed it.

He pulled my shirt from me and laughed between his teeth as I continued to struggle with his.

I growled darkly, "Get this damn thing off or I'll rip it in half."

He acquiesced, pulling off his shirt and dropping it to the ground. I had seen him shirtless, hell, he had seen me shirtless. We hadn't been the pinnacle of puritanical modesty while we had been the last two people on the planet, but this was so much different. I wasn't waiting to see how ridiculous he would look in a leather jacket, I wanted to devour him alive.

I moved forward, still allowing my instinct to guide me, I wanted to know what he tasted like. I seized his hips harshly and dragged him toward me, biting and sucking at the skin of his neck and collar bone. His breath was harsh and he snarled a litany of expletives.

He ripped my head back by the hair and slammed me, once more against the tree. With no shirt for protection, the bark raked into my skin. He pinned my wrists above my head with his hands then, manic smirk millimeters from my face but, agonizingly, not touching it, he maneuvered to hold both of my wrists in one hand. He tightened the other into a rigid claw and slowly dragged it down the soft flesh of my inner arm all the way down my torso to my stomach.

He lowered his mouth to my neck and right in the spots I was most tender, bit down hard. At the same moment he lifted his hand to my breast and twisted my nipple harshly. I threw my head back and howled. These were sensations I didn't know my body could produce. His laughter was low and vibrated against my skin. He kissed and bit downwards until he could replace his hand with his lips and teeth, tugging and pulling and sucking. I arched against him, straining against his hands that held me so firmly in place.

I was torn between the burning desire to touch every inch of him and how much it made my body pulsate to be held down by the King of Fucking Hell.

My whole body was shaking, "Crow – Crowley!" my voice was hoarse.

He raised his head and placed it carefully next to my ear so his breath burnt across it, "If you liked that, kitten, you just wait." His voice was low and predatory. I shuddered.

Finally, achingly, he kissed me again, I pressed my tongue fiercely back against his, learning quickly by imitation. His free hand had moved decisively down to the waistband of my pants and he was deftly removing them.

He was moving slowly now, sinuously. It wasn't fervent as it had been moments before. He let his dark eyes bear into mine without blinking and slid his hand down between my legs, now unfettered by pants. I held myself still, trying to control my breath. Hands still held above my head, his motions so determined and deliberate and those eyes ripping into me dark and terrible.

His fingers delved inside of me and I shifted. It felt good, but such a different kind of good. Less purely intense and more fulfilling. He pulled his fingers out and I groaned, he smirked.

"Oh, darling, aren't you exquisite." He purred at me.

He rubbed up my folds and suddenly came to a spot that lit me ablaze. I screamed and thrashed. He swirled his fingers around it and pinched it. My stomach was clenching and unclenching without my command, my legs were shaking. I arched and twisted. His fingers continued their ministrations. There was power and fire churning in my abdomen; I could feel it licking out to my extremities.

He started whispering in my ear, "My sweetling, you are more delectable like this than I had even imagined. And I've imagined it quite a lot. Oh, kitten, don't stop growling my name like that. By the fires of hell you're a wonder." And on, rapturously into my ear.

I felt on the peak of sensation, "Crow," I groaned, trying to force more leverage down onto his hand, "Hell! Crow!" I clamped my teeth together and he treated me to a final twist of his fingers and I plummeted into the chasm. Electricity arced across my nerves and my entire body bowed. I let out a bloodcurdling roar. Stars danced in front of m eyes.

As the feelings subsided my vision cleared. I was breathing heavily. Crowley released my hands and I let them fall. Body quaking.

"My god, Crow," I breathed raspilly.

He nuzzled my neck, nipping at it gently, "Oh, Bobs, we're not done yet."

I shoved him backwards and, kicking out at one of his ankles, dropped him, ungracefully to the sandy ground. "I should think not." I kneeled over him and unhooked his pants, pulling them off of him with a flourish.

He didn't stay submissive for long. In retribution for my tripping him, he flipped me over and ground me into the dirt. I was thankful, not having the experience to adequately take the lead.

He laughed, "Winchester, you are insatiable." His eyes gleamed darkly.

I shoved his chest, "Stop calling me that."

He ground his pelvis down against mine, rubbing where his fingers had left off before. He hissed, "Make me."

I considered hitting him again, but was beginning to think that there were vastly more entertaining ways of cajoling him.

Experimentally, I rolled my hips upward, hooking a leg around him and grinding my body against his. He groaned low in his throat but I did him one better. I arced my back deeply, head tilting back on the ground. I opened my mouth slightly and murmured, "Crrooooowleeeey."

He smiled at me and bit alone my jawline, aggressively pushing against my skin with his sharp beard. "Oh," he moaned as though enthralled, I smirked in triumph and he turned to whisper, "Is that the best you can do, _Winchester_?"

Enraged and thrumming with excitement at the challenge, I twisted, forcing him again to his back. I hovered over him. Carefully so as not to spoil it, I pushed myself down across him. So his member was trapped between our bodies. I curled my hips in a slow circle, taking the opportunity to move to it felt precisely perfectly. I scraped my nails down his chest and groaned.

His hands gripped my hips harshly and he dragged me down harder, face twisting in frustration and desire. At my own pace I pulled back achingly slowly,I ground myself against him, rolling my back in a curve until my breasts were displayed prominenty. In a sudden burst of inspiration, as I ground against him in that beautiful spot. I let my eyes flutter and lowed, in a soft, slow alto, "aaaah, my King."

He reared like a lion, howling viciously and slamming me against the ground so hard I saw stars. In a single sure move he pushed his way inside of me. There was a moment of pain, unwelcome, unlike the tearing pain of before. He stopped momentarily than moved with the same surety as before, but slower. His eyes were still dark and taunting, but moving carefully over my face.

I gave him an edgy smirk and intoned, "Gotcha."

His face contorted and he moved with more vigor. This sensation was magnificence. I curled my legs around him and increased the pace myself. I lifted my head and bit him hard on the shoulder. He thundered and bucked hard against me, losing his rhythm in favor of unruly assaults. His hands were claws in my sides, tearing my flesh. I combed my fingers through his hair and pulled it back roughly. I could feel myself being driven again toward that precipice. There was something inside me he pressed against that drove me on in a fury.

"CROWLEY!"

His ferocity intensified and he grabbed me by the hair, growing out now, long enough to get a grip in, and he pulled my head roughly back. I scratched bloody marks down his torso. He made a final frantic movement and screamed out unintelligibly. I could feel myself pulsate around him and I, once again, fell over the edge into the beyond. He collapsed on me, breathing hard.

After a moment he pushed himself to his feet and rose. He smiled down at me and offered me his hand. I took it and he helped me to my feet. Gently he lifted my palm to his hand and kissed it.

All of a sudden he was not the fearsome King of Hell who could enjoy me scratching him apart, or the irate and jealous demon who snarled at me, he was Crowley who risked his life for Ethan and I at Singer's Garage. Crowley whose heartbeat I had slept to for the past three years. Crowley who made me laugh while the whole world was on fire. Crowley I had let my body be pummeled for the chance of bringing him with me.

My whole body softened and I blinked at him. "Crow."

He tilted his head and allowed his eyes to lose their edge, "Bobs."

I took his wrist, with utmost tenderness and stepped into him. I raised my chin and kissed him, a warm tasting of the lips, sharply contrasting with any we had shared in our tussle. He made a contented noise and wrapped an arm around me. I laid my head on his shoulder and put my arms around him, he mimicked the position. We stood there, swaying slightly.

I looked up at the sky, "It's getting dark, we should get back."

He nodded and, after pulling our clothes back on we started the return trip to the village. I dropped an arm around him, "I'm glad, you know, that I got to bring you back."

He shoved me playfully, "I should hope so."

**AN: There you go guys! There is their full encounter. Which she didn't put in her journal to give to her dad. HOPE YALL HAD FUN I DID.**


	2. From DCRH 27

**AN: This excerpt comes directly after Dionysus slipped off and Bobby leads Crowley off by the wrist. SO HAVE FUN KIDS. From chapter 27 of During the Course of Ruling Hell**

Predictably, Crowley put up less than a struggle as I led him swiftly through the halls back to our bedroom. As we walked his hand crawled up and down my side. His breath was heavy and belabored. I shuddered and increased my pace. I could feel his gaze raking through my skin. His hand was so hot it _burnt_. And the smell of him. I had known I liked the way he smelled but damn Dionysus' damn mind magic and made it an intoxicant. We were so near our door, I was nearly running.

One of my captains came around the corner and Crowley's hand dropped from my waist. "Milady," the captain said crisply, "I have the reconnoissance reports for you, you said that you wanted them straight away. I have outlined responses to a number of troubling aspects. If you could just look them over and confirm that we should move forward as I have designated."

I steadied myself with a slow breath, behind me, Crowley growled, "Thank you, Gilgash." I said, trying to keep my voice level, "I'll look at this right away."

I nearly left him there but there was that businesslike look in his eye that from practical and down to Hell Gilgash, probably meant that it was important enough to look at now, probably even crucial to look it through now. "Lets sit in the office and look through it." Gilgash nodded sharply at me and he took the lead, stepping brightly toward the office.

Crowley gripped my hip harshly and snarled into my ear, low enough that hopefully Gilgash would not hear it. "Oh, Winchester, you think you can promise me what you did then go do _paperwork_?" His hand trailed up my side and whispered across my breast. I shivered and bit my tongue.

Almost silently I hissed back at him, "We have a _war on_, Crowley." He snarled but followed.

At the door, Gilgash turned, Crowley's hand fell back to his side. Gilgash held the door open for us respectfully and allowed us to walk through. I took the report and sat swiftly behind the desk, fervently hoping that this was not a report that would take any more than half an hour.

Crowley took a seat right next to me, looking over my shoulder at the report. Gilgash, as was his custom, stood erect by the door, across the room from us.

I read the report, trying to take note of its important aspects. Crowley's hand touched my knee under the table. I bit my lip and kept myself from jumping. His hand, very gradually, moved up my leg, lingering over my thigh. I shifted and refused to glance at him. He tsked and, with his other hand, made a mark on the report, negating something Gilgash had planned. Simultaneously his hand slipped up to the waist of my pants. He carefully crossed out a particular logistic as his hand slid beneath the fabric of my pants. I held myself entirely rigid. I took a pen of my own and carefully dipped it in ink with my left hand. Letting my right fall beneath the table. He by no means was going to be granted a monopoly on tormenting.

In a calm voice I managed, "Oh, I think Gilgash has it right on this one, Hades. Your plan doesn't account for the backup coming through the pass. Its' shortsighted."

His deft fingers lit upon my bundle of nerves and I ground my feet into the floor, trying not to move above the waist. His fingers stroked and tweaked. I curled my toes harshly into the ground.

"Oh," he said darkly, "I don't know that it's shortsighted. Perhaps we should send another batch of troops to head off the reinforcements from the pass."

I ran my hand up his pants, letting my fingers dance over the fabric above the stiff bulge straining beneath. From the corner of my eye I saw him twitch. I smirked and pushed my hand passed his pants, teasing him at the thigh.

Aloud, I scoffed, "That would be a poor allocation of troops, Hades," I said purposefully condescending. "When we could easily keep back Zeus' troops in the pass with ours who are already there, if we just give them more supplies. But I do think that if we were to send more troops, we should send them in behind to close Zeus' army within the pass. I'm surprised you didn't think of that."

As I spoke I ran my hand firmly down his entire length. He shifted his weight. I held back my smile.

His fingers very lightly circled that sweet spot and I gave an involuntary twitch, "Wonderfully well thought out, _darling_" he said with exaggerated sweetness, "And what, in your grand vision, would the troops do once they had trapped the army? You haven't convinced me that using up that many troops would benefit the war. How much would it really speed up the destruction of Zeus' troops. It seems foolhardy."

I let my fingers trail down to the head of his shaft and squeezing, I crooned, "Oh you never did know how to take a chance, did you?"

From the way he assaulted me with his fingers, he took that comment particularly personally. I could see the tension building in his shoulders. He looked moments from cracking.

I continued, "And besides, my darling Hades, winter is on its way, we just have to trap them for a few extra days and they'll be trapped beneath the snows. It will hardly cost us any troops."

Irritatedly he nodded, "Gilgash" he commanded, holding out the annotated report, "Take this along and ready another contingent."

Gilgash nodded abruptly and took the report, marching crisply from the room. Crowley flicked his wrist and the door slammed after him, the locking clicking securely into place. Without a pause he twisted my chair around and lifted me, dropping me unceremoniously on the table. His eyes were blazing red, smoke curling off of his shoulders.

I seized him by the lapels and kissed him with abandon, his hands dragging beneath my shirt. I held him by the hair, snarling, "Fucking Hell, Crowley you smell so fucking good."

He responded by pulling my pants off in a single, vicious move. I tore his shirt from his chest, he glowered at me, "Do you have any idea - " he started.

I threw my head back and groaned, "For fuck's sake, Crowley, you're the King of Hell, you can afford a tailor, stop worrying about your clothes and get mine off of me."

He obliged magnificently, kissing his way down my neck as he did, his gruff beard scratching my tender skin. I moaned huskilly. His hands crept up my, now bare, sides, thumbs grazing my nipples. I gripped his hips with my knees and he smirked and aligned himself with my entrance. He looked as though he was about to devour me when he paused for less than a moment.

He glanced up at me, making direct eye contact with me. He narrowed his eyes questioningly, I paused he was not Zeus, his breath was labored and loud in my ears. I remember what he sounded like, torturing that Hellion. The red of his eyes had cleared, he was fixing me with his nearly human black pupils, I remember how to burned in fury as he healed my bruised body.

I smelled him. He smelled so different from Zeus. Zeus had been cold and crisp, like lighting in a rainy sky. He could burn you clean. Crowley smelled corrupt, his carefully applied cinnamon scent was overpowered by sulphur. He smelled like he was rotted from the inside. I breathed him deeply. A fetid corpse barely clothed in the crown of a king. Rotten like someone who had murdered their child and wrapped themselves desperately in the armor of a hero.

I buried my face against his neck and inhaled how he smelled and, gripping him fiercely by the hips, impaled myself on him. He shouted, his voice rough. He pushed me back onto the desk and, staring unblinkingly down at me, slid in and out of me. His breath steady but harsh.

His hands were on my hips, gripping me hard, but surprisingly gently. His head tipped back and he moaned deep in his throat, "Bobby."

He took my head steadily, hand buried deep into my hair and kissed me with surety. I groaned and he pressed into me in smooth strokes. "My god," he breathed, "Bobby, you're the last thing left." This took me aback. I supposed that I should have considered earlier that he had his own motives for being with me. After all, I had mine. It seemed less than noble, but only fair. And it would be an odd day when he was _noble._

I groaned into his ear, and bit into his neck. He jerked into me faster, snarling at me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and rolled my hips upward, against him. Fire was alight under my skin and it boiled and burned. He pulled my hair gently and I dragged my hands down his sides, taking hold of his hips.

He shifted, changing his angle and I called out, "Ah! Crowley." He curled his hips, dragging himself across that sensitive pack of nerves as he withdrew. My head dropped backward, "Crow, god, Crow. Don't stop."

He dropped his forehead against my shoulder, his hips moving erratically, "Kitten, oh Bobs. Oh Bobs."

His gravely voice was hot in my ear and I fell over the edge, my legs locking around his waist, yelling his name and I shuddered and contracted. He followed me, his body quaking and convulsing.

We slowed and stopped. He dropped onto a chair, dragging me with him. I let my head lean against his chest.

My breath was still labored, "Does killing Ethan make me a monster? Really?"

He pulled his fingers through my short hair, "Yes. Welcome to the team."

I didn't care what he thought about my being a monster, I wanted to tell him I was using him.

"Do you think we'll get back to the right time?"

I smiled, although he couldn't see me, not thanking him for reciprocating, "If we go the long way."

We sat in silence.

**AN: I have a hard time writing their smut without it being all dark and emotional. I swear someday you guys will get champagne and fun smut where they giggle too much and eat food off of each other. SOMEDAY**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey guys, quick note. This is in no way tied directly in with the story. You will see a little extra emotional bonding I guess but I really just felt like writing some sweet sweet smut. So this happens sometime between when Dionysus came and when she left Hell.**

I had been training spirits all day. Spirits being my army of the dead. Crowley called them demons but they weren't demons, they hadn't been tortured in the fires of Hell. They were just dead. So, spirits.

Usually I spent a great deal of time with my more young and untrained spirits, we needed them for the army but they did have to have some ability to do something. So I pressed every last ounce of my patience into service and I drilled them into shape.

But today had been quite the treat, I had, instead, spent time on tactical fighting with a handpicked selection. All of whom were either as good or better than I was. We had spent most of the afternoon swooping and gliding and rolling in perfect formation. It had been quite the adventure. I was, however, very dirty and very exhausted. Rivulets of sweat and mud were streaking down my face and body and my training clothes clung to me.

I leaned heavily against the wall of the palace as I watched my spirits file out. I had a few minutes of a break before my new recruits came. I was breathing rather had still and my muscles were hot with exertion. I pushed my short hair back and out of my eyes. I pulled my training jacket off, it was a heavy, padded thing, aiming at keeping my bones unbroken though we used training weapons. My skin underneath was sticky and a bit bruised. But I was becoming...quite heavily muscled. My abdomen and biseps were downright chiseled.

"You're looking quite the warrior these days."

I looked up. Crowley was coming out of the palace, unlike me he was impeccably dressed, his black robes draping flawlessly.

A slanted grin etched across my face, "Yeah, I guess. What are you doing out here?"

He didn't answer me directly, he tilted his head and regarded me through narrowed eyes, "I was watching you fight." he kept his voice low and gravelly. He took a few steps closer to me and put a hand up on either side of me. I squirmed, feeling quite boxed in. He leaned near me and his nearly acrid scent of sulphur burned in my nose. One of his hands fell from the wall and glided down my side. His breath was husky.

He let his other hand drop from the wall and both of them took firm hold of my hips, he leaned in and breathed in my ear, "If you could see yourself _move_." His hands snaked up my sweaty shirt and he was breathing hard into my ear.

I pulled him closer to me, curling my hands into his clothing. "There are more people coming. Crow, this isn't the time."

He looked at me with dark eyes and, his fingers skimming beneath the band of my pants, began kissing the side of my neck, biting down lightly.

"If you," he started, his voice punctuated by the kisses he was pressing down my body as he sank to his knees, "want me to stop," he had pushed my shirt up and was kissing my lower belly, his hands dragging themselves down my inner thighs, "just say the word."

Very logically I knew that he should not continue, not here, with new recruits coming any minute. I wasn't particularly keen on them discovering me half dressed with the King of Hell making me writhe against a wall. He unlaced my pants and pulled them down, his breath hot on my flesh.

"Crowley," I rasped, "This is...we don't have...long."

He looked up at me. He eyes were dark and hooded, his lips turned up in a smirk. Maintaining eye contact he licked sensuously between my folds. My head dropped against the wall. He found my bundle of nerves and scoured his tongue across it.

My hips bucked and I gasped, "Crow," my hands were running across his shoulders and scalp but I could not reach much of him.

His hands slipped around my calves and he slid my legs over his shoulders so I was pinned by him against the wall. He growled and sucked that tender spot, letting his teeth barely graze it. It was all I could do not to scream. I dug my fingertips into his shoulders and opened my mouth, screaming without noise.

As he sucked and licked so aggressively, his fingers circled my entrance, teasing and tickling. _I writhed_.

He curled one finger inside of me. I lurched and growled. There was a spot inside of me that he was stroking and by the gods I was _on fire_. I nearly cried out, biting down on my hand to keep myself silent.

My body had begun to tremble and I was hurtling toward the edge. He wound another finger inside me and I nearly lost it. The combined heat of his mouth and dexterity of his fingers entirely wrecking me. I breathed heavily and whispered a filthy litany to him. He chuckled against me and glanced up one more time and _for fuck's sake_ that look in his eye nearly drove me over.

He pushed my legs farther onto his shoulders, until I was practically sitting on his shoulders and he delved his scorching tongue inside of me. I smacked my head against the wall, clenching my teeth together, "Crowley, fuck, Crowley."

I was so close, I teetered right on the edge, I ground myself against him and he snarled and crushed me against the wall, keeping me still. Then, I heard the clip of boots approaching. My voice took on a new quality of alert strain, "Crowley, fuck, stop, there's recruits coming."

The most physical part of my wanted him to continue anyway, the recruits be damned. But he had not. The moment I had breathed to stop he had put me back on the ground. He stood swiftly and resecured my pants. He gave me a final, searing look and, without so much as a word, walked off.

I clenched my jaw and turned to face the recruits coming in in a disorganized bundle. My body still burned and shook. I had been _so fucking close._ For god's sake I wanted to chase him down and take him against a wall. I glowered at my troops and slid my training jacket back over my shoulders, securing it once more across my chest.

**XXXXX**

The moment the soldiers were finished with their training I marched swiftly inside, hunting the palace for him. It had been a horribly uncomfortable training session. My body ached and pulsed and would not be stilled by something as trivial as necessary, non sexual, work.

I saw the thin and unimposing form of his manservant, most responsible for keeping him on his own timetable and letting him know when people are expecting him.

"Kreosus," I greeted more warmly than I felt, "Where is Lord Hades?"

"Do you need him urgently, my lady? He is meeting with callers in the Throne Room."

Instinctually I would have said, 'Yes, Kreosus, I need him right now, he started something with his tongue that I intend to finish with something else.' However, it had occurred to me that he must have _known_ how that foray in the training ground would end. I smiled pleasantly at Kroeseus, "Oh no, let him be, but there is someone he must meet with today."

"Of course, my lady, would the guest mind waiting a bit?"

"Not at all, but this is a matter of utmost security, remove the guards."

He looked unsure. He looked like he was about to offer me a complaint, I raised my eyebrow and stiffened my grip on my spear, he nodded curtly, "Yes, my Lady Queen."

I didn't bathe, I wanted to preserve the sweat and dirt stained ambiance. But I did change out of training pads into full battle regalia, a real spear now glinting in the candle light. I regarded myself in the mirror. I looked like I had just walked off the battlefield. A well aimed strike from a recruit had even cut my lip open, leaving a smear of blood.

When I walked boldly into the throne room, slamming the door shut and marching aggressively toward his throne he glowered with uncomprehension. "Is there a particular reason you couldn't tell me about this meeting before now?"

I'm sure he had more to say but, to keep him from getting out of the throne, which he was halfway finished doing, I spun my spear until I held it in both hands, laterally and I slammed the handle against him, pushing him back and locking him into his chair. He chuckled, "Ah. You look good like this, angry, bloody, and _desperately lustful_." He leered at me.

I didn't say a word by gave him a small and tight lipped smirk. I let go of my spear, allowing it to balance on his arm rests and gave my hands over to getting his robes roughly out of the way. It was immediately apparent that he had not been quite so unaffected as he had wanted me to believe.

He swallowed in anticipation and I knelt in front of him, regarding him with a battle hardened sneer, scraping my nails down his thighs. He tilted his head back and his spiky golden crown clinked against the throne.

I licked a slow and hot stripe up the underside of his now arousingly stiff member and, looking him straight in the eyes whispered harshly, "My King." Then dipped my head down and slowly engulfed all of him. His hips twisted in his throne and his hands came forward to wrap into my hair. Roughly I seized my spear, still laying across the chair and pressed it harshly against him, pinning his arms and torso against the back of the throne.

As I did this I hollowed my cheeks, making him press aggressively against the spear. If this had been a contest of tolerance or creativity he may have won, but in terms of sheer physical strength I had him easily bested. I sucked on him nearly roughly and he bucked, "Ah! Bobby. Bobs. Hellfire. When did you learn how to do this?"

He had made a fair point, I was out on a limb here, having never done this before. But besides adjusting to new sensations, it was pretty straightforward. And, as it turned out, pretty fun, watching him squirm and plead above me.

Getting tired of the obvious, I maneuvered my tongue to the side of his shaft and dragged it slowly up one side, slowly across the tip and down the other side. Above me he sounded more like a Hellhound than a demon. I could feel his body shaking and I hummed appreciatively. Unexpected his body convulsed. My interest piqued I hummed harder, letting mouth vibrate around him. His nails dug into the arms of his throne, head slammed against its back.

"Bobs, oh my little minx, oh my Queen."

Fiercely I sucked on the head of his shaft and his back arched, a growl raising from his throat. I thought it was the time I had been waiting for. I slid my mouth down as far as I could and withdrew slowly, letting my tongue paint a slow zigzag as I pulled back.

"Winchester. I'm-"

Releasing him without preamble, I stood and flipped his robes back down. Taking my spear back in my fighting hand, I gave him a half smirk and marched toward the door. He snarled expletives to my back, but I didn't so much as turn back.

**XXXXX**

I retired, after that, to the bedroom and ordered a bath to be prepared. I had been sweaty and dirty for long enough. I unclipped my armor and put it neatly on its stand, peeling my sticky clothes off of my body. I was nursing a number of new and recovering training bruises and cuts which burned as I sunk slowly into the steaming bath, letting my head tilt back onto rim of the basin. My aching muscles were untwisting in the heat and I groaned happilly.

I heard the door open and close and tilted my head back, regarding Crowley upside down, with a grin, "Hey."

He twisted his lips unhappily at me, "After that stunt in the throne room, you say, 'hey'?"

I laughed, "After that stunt on the training grounds you're upset about that stunt in the throne room?"

"Will you ever not retaliate?"

"Would you have me not retaliate?"

He stepped toward me, his footfalls harsh and determined, he moved with fury, his eyes burning.

I was having a hard time retaining the aggression of our previous encounters, my body so thoroughly relaxed by the heat of the steaming water "Was your throne comfortable?"

He lashed out, "You know exactly how uncomfortable those thrones are after a few hours." He tilted my head back roughly by the chin, I only smiled at him lazily.

"Your back ache? Muscles all knotted up?"

His eyes lost some of their fire, "Yes, quite."

"A bath feels nice."

In spite of himself, his lips curled upward, "Was that an invitation?"

"It was if you bring a drink with you."

He scoffed, "As though I would ever fail to bring a drink."

He disappeared behind the half wall dividing the stone floored bathing area and the expansive bedroom for a moment. When he reappeared he was cradling a liberally filled glass of wine.

I made room for him as he shed his clothes and slid into the basin behind me, keeping the wine carefully level. I leaned back against him and closed my eyes, his soft body cushioning me was much preferable to the hard metal edge of the washing basin.

He sipped the wine and looked at it with disappointment, "I await the invention of whisky with baited breath," he said mostly to himself.

I eased the glass out of his hand and took a sip myself, it wasn't like the wines we had stolen from the cellars of the dead in the old days, it was muskier and much stronger. I took another drink before relinquishing it back to him.

He shifted until my head was lying on his shoulder and his arm was tucked around me, the wine easy for me to share. His other arm was under the water, wrapped around my waist.

I looked up at him, he had his eyes closed.

"You know, darling, I had every intention of throwing you onto the bed and devouring you."

I took another sip of wine and replaced the cup in his hand, "Sounds lovely."

He took a sip in turn, "This will do for now."

I reached over my shoulder and caressed his face gently, running my fingers around the shell of his ear and down his stubbled jaw. Eyes still closed he tilted his face into my touch. He lifted his hand from my waist and, leaning his elbow against the rim of the basin, let his fingers crawl through my hair.

I mewled contentedly and had some more wine. He might have missed whisky but I thought the wine was delightful. We didn't talk, just sat in the heat of the water, sipping the wine until it was gone. He pushed himself up a bit and set the glass on the floor.

The water getting chilled I moved forward and stood, stepping out of the basin. He followed me. I reached out for my robe and wrapped it securely around myself. I was humming under my breath.

When I turned back around he, also wrapped in his comfortable robe, was regarding me with a tilting smile and raised eyebrow, "Are you humming, _Hey Jude_?"

I shrugged, "My dad used to sing it to me. Sorry."

His eyes had a softness I didn't often see, "Don't- I mean - keep singing."

I smiled and softly, not trusting the strength of my singing voice, which was always a little rough, I remembered the lyrics as best as I could, "_Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song," _biting my lip I reached out and took his hand, my hips swaying, "_and make it better."_

I tugged at his hands playfully and, his eyes distractedly fixed on mine, he laughed and swayed with me, "_remember to let her into your heart," _slowly, he led me in a twirl, and when I had come back around put his other hand on my waist, "_then you can start to make it better."_

"_Hey, Jude_," I continued and we stepped slowly in a swaying circle, "_Don't be afraid, you were made," _I smiled and laughed, stepping away and back again, my shoulders dipping playfully, "_to go out and get her." _He chuckled and spun me again, with more vigour this time, "_the minute you let her under your skin," _he twirled me back so I landed against his chest. I trailed off, unsure about the lyrics. He stopped dancing and looked down at me, finished the verse in his deep and gravelly voice, "_Then you begin to make it better._"

He pushed my hair softly out of my eyes and bent forward, delicately covering my mouth with his. I tightened my grip around his waist and pressed my lips back against his, making little contented noises.

His hands skimmed down my sides and he walked me backwards slowly. When the back of my knees hit the bed he put one hand on my back and one on the back of my thighs. He lifted me with unusual tenderness and laid me down on the coverlet. He bent over me and ran a line of kisses down my throat. I trailed my fingertips down his back, letting them linger over his sides, where I knew he was particularly sensitive. His back arched softly.

I brought a hand up to his chin and tilted his face toward mine, kissing him unhurriedly. One of his rough hands skating down my torso, following the curve of my breast with aching slowness, teasingly circling my nipples.

In a sensuously slow motion he lifted himself and lowered his body again until he was straddling me, his hardness touching my entrance in tiny movements. As pressed into me gradually, one millimeter after another, kissing the side of my face as he did, murmuring quiet delights into my ear in hot breath.

Finally, achingly, he had slid in to me to the hilt and he let out a drawn out groan. His hands slid across my skin with tickling gentleness, my mouth finding his and kissing him slowly. Leaning on his elbows he touched the sides of my face, his fingers tracing around my ears and down my jaw bone, he had drawn back from my face and was fixing me with an unshifting gaze and he rolled his hips, pulling out and pressing back in in slow strokes.

It was not the wrecking flame he normally caused, but a slow moving ember that crept to the tips of my fingers and deep inside me. I tilted my head back, never for a moment breaking eye contact with him and let his name drip from my lips, "My Crowley,"

His breath sped and his pace became almost imperceptibly faster, his brow knitting together and eyes widening. He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed open mouthed kissed against my palm, his face nearly pained, not relinquishing my hand he pressed it to his face, his eyes closing.

I took his hand in turn, his eyes opening and gazing down at me. I turned it palm down toward me and and I pressed kisses against it and arched my back in a slow motion, rolling my hips beneath him, tightening myself around him with the rhythm.

He let his head drop so his forehead rested on mine and he whispered, "My Queen, my Bobby."

His weight atop me and his breath on my skin, my body fell over the edge in a in a slow burn, rocking upward against him and, growling breathily his body shook and released inside of me.

He fell to my side and pulled me against him so I rested against his chest, his arms tight around me, eyes clenched like he was dizzy.

I rolled away from him and he let out a noise of distress, I rolled back, bringing with me a blanket to wrap us in. He made a mollified noise and pulled me against him again. I pressed my face into his chest. Freshly bathed, without his usual scented oils, he lacked his carefully contrived cinnamon scent and smelled nearly overpoweringly like sulfur. I inhaled deeply, cloaking my senses in his smell. I could not keep myself awake, and, to the familiar thudding of his heart I slipped to sleep.

**AN: Well that was a good time to write. Let me know if you like the softer tone of the second half of this. I certainly did. Did Crowley seem out of character? **


End file.
